Seriously, though, I’ve been back on Weight Watchers in earnest for about five months now and I’ve been on the threshold of my first goal (losing 5% of your starting weight) for weeks now. Lots of things derailed me — I didn’t track or exercise during SXSW, I had Foodways Texas, followed by the Austin Food & Wine Festival. I work out A LOT, but I’m also super sloppy in my tracking, going over my daily points allotment every day.

I’m really ready to get serious again with this partly because I’m paying to be a member every month, but also partly because this is the most progress I’ve made with weight loss since before I got married. (I lost 40 pounds back in 2003.) And it’s not so that I can look good in a bathing suit, but because I want to be healthy for a long, long time. I also am looking to clean up the family’s diet, especially because I’ve been letting too much sugary junk slip through the cracks and ends up sliding down my gullet. It’s better for the entire family’s health if I’m holding the line with healthy foods.

Along with having a vat of zero-point veggie soup on hand for afternoon snacks, I’m committed to weighing and measuring all of my portions and staying within my points target every day. No more borrowing from my slush fund of 49 weekly “extra” points, since I have no intentions of giving up my Saturday cheat day.

To that end, this week’s meal plan is carefully planned to speak to all of those concerns — cutting back on the sugar and junk, carefully measured on-plan portions, with a little wiggle room for wholesome treats.

Tuesday: We’re going to a 6pm UT baseball game, so there will probably be sausage wraps or Frito pies or nachos or something (I’ll have a big helping of veggie soup during the LK’s dance class, which ends at 5:30)

Those of you who’ve spent any amount of time in my presence sometime over the past two weeks know that I have Some Thoughts on Georgia Pellegrini. It has not been a particularly slow burn, though; I’d never heard of her before my sojourn at Foodways Texas back in March, right around the time Pellegrini’s newest book, Modern Pioneering, came out. When my friends showed me the cover of the book, my first question was, “what’s pioneering about a watermelon keg?”

Now then, I’ve gone on record as being less-than-impressed with people who call themselves pioneers from a position of white privilege, and Pellegrini seems to be at the forefront of this next wave of privileged “pioneering” women. Like Ree Drummond, Pellegrini participates in spinning a romanticized angle in the house with her DIY domesticity, but raises the stakes through her narratives of hunting, killing, field dressing, and cooking her own food (particularly in her first lifestyle book, Girl Hunter). This lady is all about getting her hands bloody, and you know what? Good for her. I’m all for women who embrace self-sufficiency to that degree (I’ll go about as far as buying pork chops from the ones what raised the pigs at the farmers market). But when that self-sufficiency becomes a product, one that’s flogged on the backs of indigenous people, is where I part ways with Pellegrini, philosophically.

Maybe we should define our terms here. For Pellegrini, “pioneering” involves making lip scrubs out of raw cane sugar, cornmeal, and organic peppermint extract to combat the chapping effects of winter weather, stenciling one’s staircase, and the aforementioned watermelon keg. I suppose that’s trailblazing in some way or another, but as my fellow mom and wine-guzzling buddy said, “It’s like she went to goop University. I can’t imagine that her audience includes anyone over age 35.” In truth, Pellegrini has basically developed a lifestyle portal for women who want a little more personality to their Pinterest and who can afford a $2200 “adventure getaway” in Montana, during which Pellegrini will help them “unravel” while they’re up to their elbows in entrails.

To my mind, pioneering is a notion that’s heavily romanticized in American history. For me, it’s connected to Manifest Destiny and the subjugation of this country’s indigenous people as legislation like the Homestead and Dawes Acts institutionalized and legitimated the seizure of land and displacement of its rightful owners. I’ll quote myself from that Pioneer Woman post:

The pioneers (think Laura Ingalls) are romanticized icons of Western progress, fighting harsh weather, uncertain food supplies, and — worst of all — Indians (*gasp*) in order to realize the promise set forth by Manifest Destiny. The American Dream, while certainly accessible to and enacted by all Americans, is rooted in a rhetoric of whiteness.

Ooooh, this is bad, you guys. Super bad. A Modern Pioneering-branded Minnetonka Moccasins giveaway. Oy.

So that’s why it really chapped my ass at the Austin Food & Wine Festival when I saw Georgia Pellegrini giving cooking demonstrations and participating in panels focused on “old-school cooking methods” while clad in fringed leather moccasins, an embroidered blue tunic lashed with a leather thong, and an Indian princess feather fascinator stuck in her expensively highlighted blonde hair. I’ll explain more in a minute, but first I’m gonna pass the mic to Thomas King in this very short excerpt from his novel, Green Grass, Running Water(the title is a reference to the US government’s promise that indigenous people would retain the rights to their land “as long as the grass is green and the water runs”). The scene is the Dead Dog Cafe, in a Blackfoot community in Alberta, Canada:

One of the secrets of a successful restaurant was to keep things simple. Every day Rita cooked up the same beef stew, and every day Rita or Billy or Cynthia or Latisha thought up a name for it. It wasn’t cheating. Everybody in town and on the reserve who came to the Dead Dog Cafe to eat knew that the special rarely changed, and all the tourists who came through never knew it didn’t.
“Toilet’s working.” Billy let the door swing shut behind him. “You want me to change the gas on the dispensers?”
“No, get dressed. We may need help out front.”
“Plains, Southwest, or combination?”
The itch was more persistent. “What’d you do yesterday?”
“Plains.”
“Do Southwest.”
[…]
Latisha would like to have been able to take all the credit for transforming the Dead Dog from a nice local establishment with a loyal but small clientele to a nice local establishment with a loyal but small clientele and a tourist trap. But, in fact, it had been her auntie’s idea.
“Tell them it’s dog meat,” Norma had said. “Tourists like that kind of stuff.”
That had been the inspiration. Latisha printed up menus that featured such things as Dog du Jour, Houndburgers, Puppy Potpourri, Hot Dogs, Saint Bernard Swiss Melts, with Doggie Doos and Deep-Fried Puppy Whatnots for appetizers.
She got Will Horse Capture over in Medicine River to make up a bunch of photographs like those you see in the hunting and fishing magazines where a couple of white guys are standing over an elephant or holding up a lion’s head or stretching out a long stringer of fish or hoisting a brace of ducks in each hand. Only in these photographs, it was Indians and dogs. Latisha’s favorite was a photograph of four Indians on their buffalo runners chasing down a herd of Great Danes.

In this scene, King satirizes cultural tourism and cultural appropriation by having the First Nations staff of the Dead Dog Cafe don “uniforms” of “authentic” indigenous garb because they know that the visiting tourists won’t know the difference. Latisha and her employees exploit the stereotype for economic gain and subvert the entertainment value of their native-ness. They acknowledge their “Otherness” and use it to their advantage, with the (presumably white) tourists as the butt of the joke.

But when people like Georgia Pellegrini, a former Wall Street financier, affects American Indian dress in the process of marketing herself as a “modern pioneer” (who draws heavily, I imagine, on indigenous methodologies of hunting and gathering), it’s a problem. Using another culture’s clothing/customs as part of your “brand” is Not Okay. (I’m sure GP’s a very nice person; I have nothing against her personally, and it’s not like she put on a war bonnet and then acted shitty about it. But still.) When a member of the dominant group (in this case, a privileged white woman from an affluent hamlet in downstate New York, home of the Tappan tribe, who hunted, fished, trapped, and companion planted for food) appropriates or “borrows” attire and practices from groups that have been historically “Othered,” it distracts from the lived experiences of the people being borrowed from, perpetuating their “Other,” exotic status.

Having your $40/head book launch party on the “Wet Deck” at a luxury hotel downtown? I’m not sure where that fits into anyone’s definition of pioneering, unless it’s within the context of finding a place to park in Austin’s condo-blasted downtown hellscape. But it certainly suggests a tone-deafness on someone’s part, to the tune of unexamined white privilege.

The semester is over and, beyond fielding queries from students with questions about their final grades, I’m done teaching for now. (For the foreseeable future, really.) I’m now concentrating on writing and my postdoc, working on lots of exciting new projects and hoping to make something happen with my food-writing career.

I’ve been cooking a lot; partly because I’m reviewing some cookbooks, but also because I haven’t had much opportunity to spread my wings in the kitchen over the past several weeks. I have so many unfinished projects hanging over my head, I’m really relishing the short window of time I’ve got right now to get caught up on things domestic before summer madness starts.

To that end, I’ve been putting my cast iron skillet through its paces of late, as well as working through my aversion to cooking things in oil. Being raised by a lifelong Weight Watcher makes one skittish about frying things, but I’ve been trying to relax in that regard a bit. Everything in moderation, right?

I’ve got lots of things to say here in the coming weeks and months. But for now, here’s a meal plan.

Back in the late ’90s/early ’00s, I worked as the Music, Arts, and Movies editor for Houston Citysearch. In many ways, it was the perfect job for me, back before the site was a Yelp-like, user-curated city guide. I got to create all sorts of content, previewing and reviewing movies, records and concerts, and exhibits at places like the MFAH. My work days were filled not only with writing these pieces, but also planning an editorial calendar, attending movie previews and private gallery tours complete with catered lunches. My nights were spent in various clubs and music venues, or at the theatre or the opera. Yes, I was working 50-60 hours a week and only making $27,000/year, and it was super corporate, but dang, it was fun. Our office was on Main Street in downtown (not too far from Minute Maid Park; I could have walked to Astros games after work. In fact, I’m not sure why I didn’t.), very close to lots of cool restaurants. (I was a big fan of Mission Burrito, which had a location about a block away from the office.)

One of my most favorite places to go for lunch was Treebeard’s, which was just around the corner at Market Square (and two doors down from Warren’s, one of my all-time favorite bars). Now then, given that I wasn’t making more than $500/week and had student loans, credit cards, and a car payment, Treebeard’s was a total splurge, as the daily lunch plus cornbread and a drink was about $12. I hadn’t really had much exposure to Creole food before living in Houston (at least that I can recall), and I remember being completely blown away by the red beans and rice (my absolute favorite dish there; it’s their signature dish for a reason). It’s a cafeteria-style setup, with a rotating menu of three mains (stuffed pork chops, chicken fried chicken, pot roast, blackened catfish, and the like) and assorted sides (black eyed peas, grits, mac and cheese, etc.).

Baked catfish on dirty rice, topped with étouffée.

Work-related travel found me in Houston last week and as I was considering my lunch options — there’s a lot of interesting stuff going on in Houston, culinary-wise — I seized on Treebeard’s and didn’t look back. I left Citysearch and moved away from Houston in August 2000, so a good decade-plus had passed since I’d last eaten there. I was so pleased to walk in and see that nothing had changed. I grabbed my tray, my glass for iced tea, a fruit cup, and went full-bore with my order of baked catfish atop dirty rice, with a side of jalapeño cornbread. The picture here doesn’t do it justice — this was an enormous portion (I must have stretched my expensive lunches into two servings back in the day), and I couldn’t finish it despite my best efforts. Everything tasted just as I remembered it, flooded as it was with memories of a very different time in my life.

In all honesty, my return to Treebeard’s — among other things — has made me somewhat circumspect. Dang, I loved all the writing I got to do then, and all those perks sure were nice. And I left Citysearch to go to graduate school, ostensibly so that I could become a better writer (also, working at Citysearch could sometimes be … a bit of a you-know-what-show, especially once Ticketmaster bought the company, or Barry Diller bought Ticketmaster or whatever). I don’t think a job like that will ever come up again, but when I boil that experience down to its essence — writing about things I was (and am) passionate about, I get a little thrill. Who knows what else is out there? Who knows what’s possible these days? All I know is that I want to get back to that m.o. of Always Be Writing, even when it’s hard.

Oh, another thing about Treebeard’s: they have a pretty sinful assortment of desserts, and I was eyeballing the saran-wrapped squares of butter cake for the drive home. But since I’ve been making some progress on the Weight Watchers front, I opted to stick with my fruit. Of course, later, my Houston-based friend recommended that I get some butter cake to take home, d’oh! So on Friday, I made this. It were tasty.

Do you have any restaurants that define a certain time in your life? If so, are you still able to visit them?

This past Friday, we received our first delivery from Farmhouse Delivery. After my experience at Foodways Texas, I’ve been looking for ways we can both reduce our carbon footprint and support local producers from within the kitchen. I signed us up for East Side Compost Pedallers and did some shopping around for CSAs, ultimately deciding on Farmhouse because I liked the ability to add on things like milk and cheese curds from Mill King, bread from Easy Tiger, and eggs from Pelham Lane Farms. I was hoping to get some Rockstar Bagels in our first drop off, but every time I added them to my cart, some weird $14 “cardamom bars of joy” showed up in my shopping cart instead. THAT’S FINE I DIDN’T WANT ANY BAGELS ANYWAY.

Anyhoo, I opted for the large weekly bushel and on Friday, I opened the box to find rainbow chard, spinach, strawberries, a small bunch of rainbow carrots, a huge bunch of parsley, a couple of sweet potatoes, a couple of artichokes, a gorgeous head of red leaf lettuce, and a big bunch of scallions. So, I’m faced with planning our meals around these veggies, many of which I rarely use. The chard, in particular, made my knees quake a little.

You see, when I was expecting the Little Kid, I had some, uh, food aversion issues. Meaning that I would eat food and then my body would decide it was averse to it. One day in particular, I made Eggs in a Nest for my lunch. I wanted to like it, really. But my body did not get the memo and I’ve avoided chard like the plague ever since. But now she’s five and I reckon it’s time to get over myself.

The farm box didn’t contain enough to keep me from having to go to the grocery store, but it has ensured that I’m incorporating veggies into every single meal. Plus, this gives me the opportunity to try some things I’ve not tried before, like branching out into sauces and whatnot. I already used the lettuce for dinner on Friday night (we’re not paleo, but I’ve found some really yummy recipes out there in that world, and I’m very glad there was enough of this taco salad left over for me to take some for lunch later this week).

Sunday: I ran the Cap 10K this morning and am celebrating with friends and margaritas at Maudie’s

Saturday: TBD. We usually dine out on Saturdays, so we’ll probably do pizza or tacos or something.

It’s been a while since I’ve shared a recipe here, so I thought I’d do so today. Here’s a ridiculously nutritious vegetarian main that’s super easy for a weeknight. Serve with crusty bread (and a salad if you want to be super wholesome; add a chunk of cheese if you’re feeling like indulging).

This past weekend, I had the extreme privilege to attend the fourth-annual Foodways Texas Symposium. This year’s “Farm to Market” program was held at the Agrilife Center on the Texas A&M campus and provided attendees with the opportunity to explore and learn about agriculture through various lenses, from logistics to oral histories to the connections between Texas food and swing music.

The event commenced on Thursday night with a welcome dinner at The Veranda, with a “Texas Spring Picnic” dinner provided by Molly McCook of Ellerbe Fine Foods in Fort Worth. The menu included chicken-fried quail and a potent whiskey pound cake, showcasing Texas ingredients from start to finish.

Indeed, each meal over the weekend laid bare the embarrassment of Texas riches in terms of both ingredients and culinary talent. Friday morning’s breakfast, courtesy of Brian Light of Ronin Cooking, featured empanadas made with Longhorn beef (because College Station), while breakfast on Saturday was curated by Austin’s Stephanie McClenny of confituras, who paired her spring jams (including the brand-new ruby red grapefruit jelly) with irresistible rafts of grilled Texas toast from Dallas’ Empire Baking Company and goat cheese from Blue Heron Farm. Friday’s lunch, courtesy of Randy Evans of Haven in Houston, featured Gulf Coast delights including briny appellation oysters and a mouthwatering sauce piquant plump with Texas shrimp. (Our table also tore through three servings of dessert, a tipsy strawberry trifle stuffed into large mason jars.) On Saturday, Jesse Perez of Arcade Midtown Kitchen in San Antonio offered up a “Winter Garden Luncheon” featuring an absolutely stunning plate of roasted chicken and sweet potatoes, along with lamb shank, meaty mushrooms, and coarse yellow grits. On Friday night, dinner came courtesy of Lenoir’s Todd Duplechan, who wowed us with a smoked porchetta dish accompanied by a hearty peasant bread and refreshing end-of-season beets.

While our bodies were nourished by Texas ingredients, our minds were nourished by the various thought-provoking topics. Friday’s program was more loosely organized, focusing on agricultural products like wine, olives and grapefruit, as well as an introduction to Robyn Metcalfe’s intriguing new project, The Miracle of Feeding Cities. I was particularly moved by Saturday’s program, though, which hewed rather more closely to a single topic: the rice industry in Texas.

First, Todd Romero, a history professor at the University of Houston, gave a talk on Saito Saibara, a turn-of-the-century ex-samurai who became a successful rice grower in South Texas before the racist immigration policies of the early-to-mid-20th century squelched his ambitions. Next, MM Pack moderated a panel dedicated to teasing out the nuances of water usage and conservation in Texas and how that relates to the rice industry.

Perhaps the most profound example of this troubled relationship came when Jack “Jacko” Garrett, a Houston-area rice farmer who founded Share the Harvest, a charitable organization that has donated millions of pounds of rice to the Houston Food Bank, accepted his Lifetime Achievement award. He explained that because water consumers in urban areas fail to conserve water in any meaningful way, this will be the first year in decades that his father’s farm will produce no rice because there simply isn’t enough water available. As a result, the Houston Food Bank will receive 800,000 fewer pounds of rice from Share the Harvest this year, which adds up to 8 million servings. It is profoundly humbling to reflect upon the connections between hunger and people’s dedication to maintaining their emerald-green lawns. It’s easy to think of water being a problem people in third-world countries have, but we can no longer deny that it’s a social justice issue here in Texas as well.

Also of note was the closing panel, moderated by Austin’s Kristi Willis, who led three urban farmers in a discussion of their operations. Max Elliott, of Urban Roots in Austin, James Jeffers of Eat the Yard in Dallas, and Colleen O’Donnell of Plant It Forward in Houston all described the ways that their farming programs yield positive change in their communities. Not only does Urban Roots teach at-risk youth critical leadership and life skills, but the farm also donates thousands of pounds of produce to the Capital Area Food Bank and Caritas each year. Eat the Yard, which was founded by two Army veterans, reaches out to veterans who are in need of immediate therapeutic interventions, and Plant It Forward helps out immigrants and refugees through its gardening programs.

In between all the eating and the learning, there was community-building to boot. There were many lively discussions floating around, from how to best manage one’s cast iron collection to what the best thing on the menu at El Patio is. I can’t imagine a better way to spend a weekend than surrounded by people who love food: the growing, preparing, and sharing of it. Here’s to many more weekends like this one.

It’s spring! And pineapples were on sale for ridiculously cheap at the grocery store, so I took this opportunity to make my first-ever pineapple upside-down cake. You can see where it stuck to the edge of the pie plate when I inverted it, but look at that glaze! That caramelized edge! I’m very much looking forward to sampling this.

I went to the Foodways Texas symposium this weekend and learned so much, met some cool new people, and hung out with friends I don’t get to see very often. I’ll have a recap of it here tomorrow. There’s so much to share and process and take action on and be excited about — I can’t wait to get it all in writing.

In the meantime, here’s the meal plan for the week!

Sunday: Skillet roasted chicken from Cast Iron Nation; I’ll be testing some recipes from this new cookbook this week for a review.

SXSW is finally over. It feels like it’s been going on for months, maybe because I started working on it back in February. This year was a particularly weird festival, with what felt like way more crowds than usual, that horrible crash on Wednesday night, nightmare train rides, and a general sense of things being out of control.

Naturally, my defense mechanism was to hide out at home as much as possible and do nest-y things like read a soapy novel, fold laundry, and try a new kitchen project. That’s where the creme brûlée comes in, thanks to Baked Sunday Mornings.

I love creme brûlée. We go have dim sum once every few months and I always choose this French custard from the dessert cart. If it’s an option on the dessert menu when the husband and I are dining out, I’ll order it. It’s a special-occasion treat for me, to be sure. And that’s why it was so surprising to me that it was so easy to make. It was also my first time using a kitchen torch, which was pretty fun, although I wish I’d caramelized the tops to order instead of all at once so that I could get a bit more practice with it. Some of the sugar came out a bit more torched than I would have liked (although not scorched).

However, ease of preparation will probably not entice me to make this at home very often. I made five portions instead of four, and as I was eating mine, I realized that I was eating (and enjoying greatly) a half-cup of heavy whipping cream. The smaller portions made for a whopping 13-point dessert; if I’d divvied it into four portions, the Weight Watchers points value would have been 18 (!!!!), making this a serious splurge indeed. That said, this recipe was DELICIOUS, and I really loved seeing the flecks of vanilla bean in there. (And it was nice to use one of the vanilla beans I’ve had sitting in the pantry for an age.)

That said, sometimes you need to indulge in some dessert therapy, or at the very least, demystify a special treat. And now I’m curious as to whether I could develop a low-fat creme brûlée (although what would be the point of that?).

Chaos is the operative word around here. Baseball practice is in full swing (ha!), plus the run-up to SXSW, which means I’m spending a lot of time in front of this machine, churning out copy like someone who doesn’t procrastinate, on top of the flurry of my regular work. Rest assured when I say that we’re doing well to get three meals a day over here. Bonus points if one of my kids chokes down a broccoli floret at least once from Sunday to Sunday.

My kids won’t eat this. It confounds me.

Sunday — We were planning a dinner out, but the LK’s asthma and related concerns resulted in scrounging for the kids and a call to Pad Thai for the grownups.

Hello, my dearest readers. So sorry to have abandoned you last week, but I was overwhelmed with deadlines and unable to make our usual Downton Abbey appointment.

Here’s what we missed:

LG was called to America to help get Cora’s brother out of hot water.

Isobel nursed an ill Violet back to health, which deepened their friendship.

Mary flopped around in pig filth with Mr. Blake, which means that in some countries they’re married.

Tony “Lord” Gillingham came back to Downton with his evil rapist valet, whom Mrs. Hughes confronted about his evil raping ways. Of course he denies it, and Anna is deeply uncomfortable.

Aunt Rosamund smells a rat re: Edith, and says, “you seem so préoccupé lately.” (That’s French for “rich people’s affectation.”) Edith spills the beans, goes to get an abortion, but changes her mind.

Got it? Good. Let’s proceed with Part 8. This is a pretty juicy episode, being the season finale of sorts, so strap in. [Well, the “Christmas special” is technically the season finale, but that is typically a standalone episode.]

Turns out Cora’s brother has gotten embroiled in the Teapot Dome scandal. Turns out Mr. Levinson owns one of the companies caught paying bribes to Secretary of the Interior Albert B. Fall to drill for oil on government land in Teapot Dome, Wyoming. Thanks, Downton Abbey, for this American history lesson! This, of course, leaves Cora to plan the church bazaar without LG’s help. Because I’m sure he’s always a huge help in every way.

Tony “Lord” Gillingham just wants to be loved by Mary. Anna just wants him to stay away, please.

Mr. Blake, with whom Mary is much more comfortable now that they’ve thrown pig shit into each other’s faces, has reached the end of his study time in Yorkshire and is headed home. And just so that we don’t forget that this is a soap opera to its very core, Mary tells Anna that Tony “Lord” Gillingham is returning to Downton to break his journey home. When Anna turns green around the gills, she’s forced to tell Mary that it was Mr. Green, the valet, who attacked her. Mary is understandably shocked and wants to tell the police, but Anna’s hell-bent for leather to keep it under wraps, and keep Bates away from Green because she knows he’ll figure it out, kill Green, then get himself hanged. Yes. We know this. You tell us this every episode since it happened. WE GET IT. (P.S. Bates can totally tell that something happened with Mr. Green, because Anna no longer jokes and laughs with him when he’s around.) (P.P.S. Tony tells Mary he plans to call off his engagement, but Mary tells him that she’s not on the market, for realsies.) Later on, Mary decides to tell Tony to dismiss his valet so that Green can’t terrorize Anna at Downton on future visits. Tony later arrives at the bazaar to report that Mr. Green is dead, having fallen into traffic in Piccadilly.

Related: Bates takes a mystery day off while Anna is in London with Mary.

Ivy receives a letter from Alfred reporting that his dad’s died and also inviting her to a.) marry him and b.) leave Downton and join him in London. She does not want. Despite sending him a letter to this effect, he plans to come to Downton anyway. Mrs. Patmore takes this opportunity to let Daisy take the day off to go see Mr. Mason, who advises Daisy to say goodbye to Alfred. “Leave nothing jagged, nothing harsh between you,” he says. Aw, he’s salt of the earth, that Mr. Mason. I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE, JULIAN FELLOWES. She brings back a basket of goodies for Alfred, and promises lifelong friendship to him. He leaves and dear god I’m glad to see the back of him and this tortured storyline.

On a trip into Thirsk, Branson spies Rose having tea with and stroking the face of Jack the Black American Jazz Singer. He reckons this situation will make some people unhappy. (The narrative also presents him with a potential love interest-philosophical sparring partner in Sarah Bunting, a local schoolteacher whom he met at a political meeting in the previous episode.) Anyhoo, he tells Mary what he saw; Mary confronts Rose about it and warns her not to lose control of her life. Rose fancies herself progressive and anti-imperialist in that she plans to marry Jack and have lots of progressive mixed-race babies in 1920s England and is going to tell Mummy of her plans straight away. Yep, totally in control of her life, that one. She later tells Mary that she’s engaged to Jack. Mary goes to visit Jack in London, where he tells her that he plans to break off the relationship because he is realistic about the world they live in.

Meanwhile, Edith reckons she can have her baby, then adopt it out to some tenant farmers at Downton who have been trying unsuccessfully to have a child (and who are also charged with the running of the new pig operation). Aunt Rosamund thinks this is reckless and reckons Edith should have the baby abroad and adopt it out there, but Edith wants to be a part of its growing up. This gives rise to a rather hilarious scene in which Rosamund says to Cora, “I have this plan. I’ve always wanted to … speak better … French than I do. [Ha! Because her daily speech isn’t affected enough!] So I thought I’d take a few months off and go to … Switzerland … and really learn it.” She’s totally making this up on the fly, a la Jan Brady and her boyfriend George Glass.

She wants to take Edith with her because it’s cleaner than France, is void of French people, and has good hospitals. You know, in case they get ill. Cora, such a sanguine lady, is all for it, exclaiming, “Golly! Life is full of surprises!” If she suspects anything, she masks it well. Violet compares Edith’s upcoming sabbatical to Lord Gillingham “thinking his way around the Highlands.” If only it were that simple for women. (P.S. Violet totally groks what’s up with Edith and calls her and Rosamund on it at lunch. Sharp old lady is sharp.)

Speaking of women, as Mr. Baxter, Evelyn Whatsis, and Tony “Lord” Gillingham all depart from Downton, the women (Mary, Rosamund, Edith, Cora, and Rose) are lined up outside to see them off. You see that the women’s color palette is shifting from purples and mauves to shades of blue, gray, and pewter accented with creams and browns. I’m not sure if the costume designers are making these choices a la Vince Gilligan and Breaking Bad, but it is noticeable and I’m hoping someone somewhere will write a think piece about it. Anyhoo, the ladies tease Mary about the carful of suitors driving away, calling it a “desire of suitors.” Har-dee-har-har, says Mary, plus whatever the genteel version of “go eff yourselves” is.

Isobel is invited by Violet to stand in for the family at luncheon with Lord Merton, who seems interested in her. He later sends her a magnificent bouquet of flowers, and the two old-lady friends have a bit of a giggle over it. (But is Violet a wee bit jealous? Surely not.)

LG returns from America just in time to enjoy the bazaar. BECAUSE OF COURSE. Mr. Baxter also comes to the bazaar, under the pretense of just having come from a conference nearby, in order to make his feelings for Mary known. He, too, vows to fight for Mary’s love, which means that season 5 will invariably feature a cage match between him and Tony “Lord” Gillingham. (My money’s on Tony, mostly because he way sexier than Blake.) Tony asks Blake for a ride home to London, Mary sees them off, and LG says, “What sort of menage has that turned into since I’ve been away?” Everyone shrugs disingenuously and we’re done here.

See you next time for the “Christmas special,” which features the triumphant return of Shirley Maclaine with bonus Paul Giamatti! Yay!

Dowager Countess Zingers: To Isobel, who enters the room saying, “It’s only me.”: “I always feel that greeting betrays such a lack of self-worth.” To Edith, discussing the trip to Switzerland: “Switzerland has everything to offer, except perhaps conversation, and one can learn to live without that.” Of Rosamund’s plan to act as Edith’s patron during her baby-having sojourn: “She’s done quite enough as it is. Take any more, and she’ll start exacting annual tribute.”